Shades of Green
by Gaeriel Mallory
Summary: Lorne finds a new group of Champions. Crossover with Xmen movieverse, post X2.
1. Part 1

Title: Shades of Green  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: Angel the Series and X-men (movieverse)  
Continuity: Takes place a month after X2 and shortly after AtS series finale.  
Distribution: The Haven, TTH, FF. net  
Disclaimer: Lorne and all Angel the Series is property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. X-men is property of Marvel Comics, Bryon Singer, and FOX. I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this piece of fiction. No money is being made off of this story.  
Note: This is not related to any of my other fics.

* * *

POV: Scott Summers

The man was wearing a trenchcoat over a lounge suit. A fedora sat low on his head and his shoulders were scrunched in, making him easy to overlook. At least, he would have been except that his suit clashed horribly with his green skin. Even me, who saw only in shades of red, could tell. He was slowly making his way through a tumbler of whisky, ignoring the glances that were being thrown his way by the other inhabitants of the bar.

I sat down beside him and nodded to the bartender. "Budweiser." Despite being a rich man's heir, I still drank cheap beer. It was a holdover from my days on the streets. Pool hustlers didn't make much – or fourteen-year-old pool hustlers didn't, at least. It was part of the con; get drunk so that your opponents thought you couldn't hit the broadside of a barn, let alone a ball into a pocket. I was able to play the angles even then, an early sign of my mutation. I also learned how to run fast, to get away from the guys who were less than happy to lose their money to a young punk, face too pretty and far too good at pool for his own good.

I downed my beer in one go, draining the entire bottle without stopping. Slamming the glass back onto the counter, I motioned for another. That one I took a little slower, prudence taking over. I could never hold my alcohol well and after only one beer, I was starting to feel the haziness numb my brain. I welcomed it. Exactly one month to the day, I had lost the one person in the entire world who I loved more than air. The grief that I thought I had learned to control came back to bite me in the ass as I was teaching a class earlier today, once I realized just what day it was. I managed to keep it together until all the students had left after I dismissed them early. I then ran back to my office, locked the door, and curled in the corner sobbing.

Swallowing hard, I slung back the rest of bottle and placed it beside the first. "Another," I rasped to the bartender. If I was going to get drunk, by God I was going to get piss-assed drunk. I turned towards my neighbor and raised my bottle towards him. "Here's to those we lost, huh?"

He looked at me in surprise but joined me in the toast. "To those who aren't here today," he said softly, nodding at me in understanding. We both drank and I contemplated the way the light hit the side of my bottle.

It was my turn to be startled when he said, "To lost innocence." I chuckled a little wetly and clinked my bottle against the side of his glass.

"So who'd you lose?" he asked me, his words not slurring at all.

"My fiancée," I replied. "Though she might as well have been my wife. We were together for nine years."

"That's a long time." He took off his fedora and placed it on the counter. I tried not to stare at the horns poking through his hair but know I failed. "Lorne," he said, holding out his hand.

I took it. "Scott." I took another sip of my beer. "So what about you?"

He sighed and played with his near-empty glass. "Too many people," he said softly, "starting with myself."

I nodded. Unlike most people, I know what it was to lose yourself. To live life and suddenly turn around and notice that you're not the person that you wanted yourself to be – and you had no idea how you got there. It was part of the reason why I accepted Xavier's offer of home, though I was very distrustful at first.

I finished the bottle – my third – and reached for the new one the bartender automatically placed on the counter. "I'm cutting you off after this one," he told me. "And you better put your hat back on," he said, glaring warily at Lorne. "Money's money but there are some folks who aren't as accepting as me for your kind."

Lorne finished his whiskey and set the glass down. "Listen, sweetcakes," he told the bartender, "I've been through hell and back, seen friends die, watched my world crumble around me. And if I want to walk around without a goddamn hat on, I damn well will." He matched the man glare for glare. "And I want another whiskey."

The bartender dropped his gaze first and refilled Lorne's tumbler. "I don't want any trouble," he told the two of us. "Finish your drinks and get out."

I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me that we got ambushed as soon as we were out the door. As we left, a group of four guys got up and followed us. "Hey, muties," I heard behind us. "Where do you think you're going?"

I sighed and turned around. I was too drunk on alcohol and grief to react calmly and said some things in response that were less than wise. The next thing I knew, I was dodging a punch and fighting against three guys bigger than me. I fought dirty, going for groins and eyes. I got in a few good shots before they overpowered me through sheer numbers. As my face was ground into the gravel of the parking lot, I wondered idly what had happened to my drinking partner.

* * *

POV: Lorne

The further east I got, the more hostility I received. It seems that while we were neck-deep in our battle with the Senior Partners, another battle was going on in the minds and hearts of the American people. Mutants. Were they good? Were they bad? And with my green skin, red eyes, and horns, I was automatically taken for one. I didn't bother trying to correct people – it was easier to let them assume than to let them know about the darker side of the world.

I traveled aimlessly, not sure of my destination, only that I wanted to get as far away from Los Angeles as I could. I ended up in a bar about an hour north of New York City when the fateful happened. I barely noticed when he sat next to me, lost in my own thoughts. The toast was a surprise but it struck a chord inside of me and I knew instinctively that I had found a kindred spirit. One who had seen loss, and had lost.

I wasn't a fighter; I never was. When we were attacked, I didn't know what to do. Three of them went after Scott and the remaining one turned towards me, cracking his knuckles threateningly. It was lucky that I managed to hit him at all. It was even luckier that my accidental punch to the jaw knocked him off balance enough that he stumbled and fell. I stepped onto his throat, putting enough pressure to make his eyes widen with fear. "Tell your buddies to back off," I snarled.

I may not be a fighter, but I knew that I could look damn terrifying in the right light. Apparently, my would-be assailant thought so too. He cried out for his friends to stop, his voice breaking a little. They turned towards us and I saw that they were about to tackle me in turn. I was trapped.

The red beams startled them as well as me. Scott was slowly getting up, using a nearby car for support. Holding onto his glasses with one hand, he said softly, "Get lost." Lifting up the shades, another set of beams crashed into the ground near the three goons, making them jump. A small crater appeared, gravel and dirt flying through the air.

They got lost. I let the one under my foot go and watched as he scrambled away into the night. "Those are some killer eyes," I observed.

He snorted in amusement. "So I've been told." He dug into his pocket for his keys, which he held up in front of him. "I don't think I should be driving right now." He walked over to a shiny red Corvette and unlocked the door. Poking his head inside, he emerged with a cell phone. "Do you need a ride anywhere?" he asked me.

"I've got nowhere to go," I told him honestly.

He looked over at me, eyes hidden behind his red glasses, before dialing in a number. "You do now."

The woman who came to pick us up had pure white hair and smooth coffee-colored skin. A rough-looking man was with her, black hair sticking up in ways that made me wonder if it had ever known a comb. He grunted at Scott and grabbed the keys to the Corvette, getting into the car and driving off. "Chatty one, that," I remarked as we climbed into the silver BMW. Whoever these people were, they had expensive tastes in cars.

"Don't mind Logan," the woman told me as we pulled onto the road. Her voice was accented though I couldn't quite place it. "I had to wake him up and he's a bit grouchy."

"You shouldn't have, Ro," Scott said. "I could have picked up the car tomorrow."

"And leave more evidence behind for our enemies? It would have been a simple thing to run the tags. I thought you would have had more sense than that," she chided him. Looking at me through the rearview mirror, she introduced herself. "I'm Ororo."

"Lorne." I paused, unsure how to go on. "Look, not that I'm not grateful but just who are you guys? Why would you have enemies?"

Ororo and Scott exchanged glances in the front seat. "I think it would be better to have the Professor explain everything," she finally said. "You'll meet him when we get back to the mansion."

I frowned. "Listen, I'm no stranger to the cloak-and-dagger stuff but this is getting a little much even for me. I want some answers now."

Scott sighed, twisting around in his seat to face me. "We're mutants," he said. "We run a school for mutant children, helping them learn to use their powers and to provide them a haven where they can be themselves without fear of recrimination from others."

I narrowed my eyes. There was something he wasn't telling me. "So do you have a school song and everything?"

His lips twisted into a rough parody of smile. "What, like 'Welcome to Mutant High'?" he asked, sing-songing the last bit.

It was enough. I stared at him, trying to process what I had seen. A mutant vigilante group, policing other mutants and saving those who needed to be saved. I also saw incredible loss in the recent past for the group. A redhaired woman who gave her life so others could live. Amazing. "Why do I always fall in with Champions?" I whispered.

"Excuse me?" Ororo asked.

"Nothing," I said hastily. It seems that the Powers that Be hadn't quite abandoned me yet. I may have left one group of white-hats, as Spike had called them, but I found another. I cannot wait to see their reaction when I tell them I wasn't a mutant, but a demon.

End Part 1


	2. Part 2

Title: Shades of Green  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: Angel the Series and X-men (movieverse)  
Continuity: Takes place a month after X2 and shortly after AtS series finale.  
Distribution: The Haven, TTH, FF. net  
Disclaimer: Lorne and all Angel the Series is property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. X-men is property of Marvel Comics, Bryon Singer, and FOX. I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this piece of fiction. No money is being made off of this story.

* * *

POV: Charles Xavier

I studied the newest addition to my school. Lorne, or Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan as he had introduced himself, had bright green skin, red eyes, horns, and a gaudy power blue suit that clashed horribly with the rest of him. In my seventy years, I had never met anyone so uniquely... unique before. Even more disconcerting than Lorne's physical appearance were his powerful mental shields that resisted any of my subtle probings. I had faith in Scott's judgment and if Scott said he trusted Lorne, than so would I. Yet, I was glad that it was night and that all the students were asleep as well. If there was unpleasantness, the adults would handle it.

"Look," Lorne told my X-men and me, "I'm afraid that I have to tell you the truth. I'm not who you think I am; I'm not a mutant."

We had taken residence in my office, seated in plush chairs or standing as suited each individual's personal preference. The green-skinned man was currently the center of attention and the others stared incredulously at his pronouncement.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked in disbelief. "Have you looked in the mirror?"

Lorne smiled slightly. "I know what I look like and I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty I'm not a mutant. Frankly, I'm not even human."

I glanced over at Logan, who was sniffing the air from where he stood against a wall. _What do you think?_ I asked mentally.

_He don't smell like any human I've ever met – though Nightcrawler and Mystique didn't smell right either_, Logan responded. _But he believes what he's saying. I can smell lies and he ain't lying...or at least he believes he ain't lying._

_Thank you, Logan._ I cleared my throat and spoke aloud. "Perhaps you could enlighten us, Mr. Lorne?" I asked calmly.

The man waved a green-colored hand to the side. "Just Lorne is fine. And, well, I don't think you're even going to believe me but I'm going to start at the beginning and end at the end. I wasn't born in this world. My home is a place called Pylea, another dimension separate from this one. I was an outcast there, horrible place." He shuddered delicately. "Why they didn't even have music! And humans were treated like animals, worked to near death and sometimes eaten. But I fell through a portal and found myself in this world; Los Angeles to be precise. I started a nightclub, a karaoke bar, and was happy.

"Then I met a vampire with a soul named Angel. He was on this whole redemption kick, helping the hopeless. He even had his gang of do-gooders and I eventually became one of them. Long story short, some really bad stuff happened and we found ourselves in charge of an evil law firm that dealt with demons and black magic. We wanted to clean it up from the inside out but we failed. In the end, we ended up destroying it – the LA branch at least. I left before the final fight. I couldn't stand it anymore; couldn't stand to see what Angel had become and was willing to do to beat the Senior Partners. I suppose if I had stayed, I would have died with the rest of them. I heard a few weeks after it happened that there were no bodies found, though there wouldn't have been, would there? The Senior Partners are nothing but thorough. I don't even know if they died but that's what I guess happened.

"I wandered for awhile until I found myself in a bar in the middle of nowhere, New York. You know the rest." Lorne nodded at Scott and lapsed into silence.

I looked at Logan again, who tapped his nose with a finger and shook his head. _He's telling the truth, odd as it sounds._

Mentally acknowledging Logan's comment, I turned towards Lorne. "So if you're not human, just what are you?"

"Believe it or not, I'm a demon. Born and raised in good ol' Pylea, a hell dimension." Red eyes stared at me, daring me to challenge this claim. "Now's the point where you laugh at me, throw me out onto the street or call the loony bin. Though I'm not quite sure what the cops would make of me and I'm positive that straightjackets would look horrible against my green skin."

"We're not going to throw you out," I told him. "And while your story may be a little hard to believe, then again, so are some of ours. There's a guest room on the second floor that is already prepared if you want to spend the night. You are free to leave if you wish but it's late and we can discuss things in the morning."

Lorne blinked at me, mouth open in amazement. "You're letting me stay? Just like that? No questions?"

I smiled. "No questions – at least, not tonight. Are you staying somewhere? I can send someone to fetch your things."

Lorne nodded. "Uh, yeah. The Holiday Inn in town, room 203. I don't have much, just a suitcase and a duffle bag. I left LA in a bit of a hurry."

"Understandable." I looked at Ororo, who nodded. "Ororo can show you your room. We'll talk more in the morning."

After Lorne and Ororo had left, I nodded to Scott and Logan. "I'm eager to get your thoughts." And I hoped that hearing what they had to say might quiet some of my own discomforts. For all my calm exterior, I was at a loss of how to handle our new guest and the implications of his story.

Logan, unsurprisingly, spoke first. "I believe him," he said succinctly. "The idea of demons and vampires isn't shocking to me. I might have even run into them in my past. If I could just remember I might be able to tell you more." His voice was bitter with anger and regret.

Turning to the man who I had taken in as my son, I asked, "Scott?"

He shook his head. "I don't know what to think, Professor," he told me. "The idea of magic and demons is too fantastic and out-of-this-world. If Jean were here—" He stopped and dropped his head.

I maneuvered my chair next to him and touched him gently on the shoulder. His flight into town was expected. I was as familiar with the calendar as he was and knew that this would be a hard day for all of us, but most especially for him. If Scott was my legal heir and the son of my heart, Jean was the child of my mind. The age difference between the two had been a large obstacle for them to initially overcome but once they had, the bond between them had only grown stronger. Without Jean, Scott was bereft and lost. Time healed all wounds, but it was a slow process. "I miss her too," I whispered.

Behind me, I heard Logan shift uncomfortably. The Wolverine, in his way, had loved Jean as well, though he never understood he could never have truly come between her and Scott. He was jealous that Scott could grieve more deeply than he, and felt that he too was entitled to Jean. It wasn't time yet to set him straight – we were all too emotional.

"Why don't you both go to bed," I said gently, carefully phrasing the order as a suggestion. "We're all tired and we will think better in the morning." It was a measure of their exhaustion and grief that they didn't argue. After they had left, I picked up the receiver to my phone to call the Holiday Inn and request that someone send Lorne's bags over.

* * *

POV: Lorne

I woke in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. I was used to it by now, having gone from cheap motel to cheap motel across America. What was different was that the sheets were freshly laundered in a way that you would never find at a Day's Inn or Econo Lodge. The mattress was soft and comfortable and the hedonistic part of me wanted to go back to sleep and ignore the strangeness of my surroundings for just another few hours of rest. I felt safe enough that I was able to give in and closed my eyes again.

The second time I woke up, the clock on the bedside table told me it was a little past noon. My stomach rumbled, letting me know that it was uncomfortably empty. I sighed and crawled out from between the sheets. Spying my bags beside the door, I rummaged around in them for my toiletries and retreated to the adjoining bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. I started feeling somewhat alive again and even hummed to myself as I was getting dressed. It had been months since I've sung – the last time had been before things had started going downhill at Wolfram and Hart. There hadn't been much to sing about then.

I dressed in a yellow polo shirt and slacks. I didn't feel up to a full suit today though I carefully hung them up in the closet. As I was shutting the closet door, I paused, still holding onto the handle. "What am I doing?" I asked myself. Was I so comfortable that I was willing to accept, even as tacitly as putting my clothes away properly, that I was staying here in Westchester, New York? I sighed and walked into the hallway, closing the door to my room behind me. I was here for a reason. I just had to trust in the Powers – something I hadn't done in a long while.

I followed the faint voices I heard until my nose twitched. After that, I simply followed the smell of food until I stumbled upon a large room that served this place as a cafeteria. A buffet lined one wall and tables and chairs filled the rest of the floor space. I spotted what appeared to be the teachers' table with the man I had met last night, Professor Charles Xavier, sitting at the head. He noticed me standing in the doorway and motioned me towards the food, smiling.

Oh thank God. I was going to eat. I grabbed a plate and filled it, though I honestly didn't know what I piled onto it; only that it was edible and smelled heavenly. It was only after I seated myself at an empty chair at Xavier's table that I looked down and processed that I had rice, baked chicken, and peas on my plate. I was thwarted from digging in immediately by my lack of silverware, which I had forgotten to grab from the buffet.

"Here you go," a female voice said to my right.

I turned, jumping a little, and saw a teenaged girl with brown hair tied back in a ponytail holding out a knife and a fork for me. A little shocked, I automatically accepted the utensils. "Thank you."

She smiled at me. "No problem." She looked beyond me at Xavier. "Is that all, Professor?"

His eyes twinkled. "Yes. Thank you, Kitty. You may return to your meal now."

Kitty flashed a quick grin at the entire table before walking back to her own. I stared after her in amazement, then down at the silverware in my hands, and then over to the Professor. "How?"

Xavier tapped the side of his head, his lips slightly upturned. "I'm a telepath, Lorne. I would have communicated with you directly but I'm afraid your mental shields are preventing me to. Instead, I merely asked Kitty, who was standing near the buffet, to get an extra set of utensils for you."

The pretty woman with the white hair, Ororo, grinned at me. "The Professor likes surprising people. I would guess that because he could not surprise you directly, he used one of the students instead." She gestured at my plate. "You should eat before your food gets cold."

I complied, enjoying the first real meal I've had in weeks. I had traveled fast and didn't want to draw too much attention so avoided most restaurants in favor of convenience stores and fast food restaurants. And even then, I could not avoid the stares that followed me around. A newcomer, I didn't know the establishments that catered to non-humans and thus had to eat quickly and silently in order to prevent trouble.

A man with blue skin and a tail joined us and I stared at him surreptitiously as I ate. The others greeted him as "Kurt" and I understood now their lack of amazement at my physical appearance. Aside from his being able to fit into any demon bar in the country, Kurt's face was covered in what looked like tattoos, and I could only guess that there were more on the rest of his body. He spoke with a thick German accent and smiled genially at me. Oddly enough, the thing that struck me the most was that he bowed his head to pray before eating his lunch. That, more than anything, made me realize just how odd the place I had found myself to be truly was.

Perhaps, in a place that accepted telepaths in wheelchairs, guys that shot red beams from their eyes, white-haired young women, and pious blue men with tails, a green-skinned empathic demon with a penchant for show tunes could fit in just fine.

_End Part 2_


	3. Part 3

Title: Shades of Green  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: Angel the Series and X-men (movieverse)  
Continuity: Takes place a month after X2 and shortly after AtS series finale.  
Distribution: The Haven, TTH, FF. net  
Disclaimer: Lorne and all Angel the Series is property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. X-men is property of Marvel Comics, Bryon Singer, and FOX. I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this piece of fiction. No money is being made off of this story.  
Note: Dr. Henry McCoy is a character from the comics that I included in here. I love Hank and am looking forward with glee to the third movie where he has a role. Expect some other comic book characters to show up as well.  
The quote is from, of course, _Hamlet_. I don't much care for the play but it did contain some very good advice.

* * *

POV: Dr. Henry McCoy

When Charles had asked me to come back to the mansion to temporarily fill in as the school physician, I agreed without hesitation. I owed a lot to the man, who accepted me both before and after my accident. Most people would have been put off by blue fur, fangs, and claws. I, along with Jean, Scott, and Warren, had been the first of his students. Jean's death struck all of us hard; we were all close to her in our own ways. For me, we were the two science geeks and spent more time in the lab together than anywhere else.

I may have readily agreed to the Professor's request, but it didn't make it any easier. I was invading Jean's space. Everywhere were signs of her: from the experiments that she had been in the middle of running, the special soap in the bathroom that only she had used, the picture of her and Scott sitting in a corner. I was reluctant to disturb anything, as if by doing so, I was disturbing her ghost.

Still, I was getting accustomed to life back at the school, though soon my leave of absence from the hospital would be up and I would have to go back to Memorial where my research and patients were. We had been interviewing potential replacements but it has been a slow process. For one thing, we were reluctant to fill the spot because it would be, in a way, truly acknowledging the fact that Jean was gone and would not be back. Secondly, it was hard to find a doctor, or even a nurse, who was truly comfortable working with mutants and the special needs that came with them. We had a short stack – very short stack – of possibilities that will be called back for a second interview, but were still going through the initial applicants.

Since Jean's death, Scott had not ventured once into the lab that doubled as the school's infirmary. I had heard about his adventure in town from the Professor and was expecting our new guest to be guided down to the lab at some point today. It was with some surprise that I saw it was Scott who was the escort. He stood at the edge of the room, in the doorway but not quite inside. "Hank," he greeted me. I noted that his face was paler than usual and that the muscles around his mouth were tight.

I got off my lab stool and headed over, relieving in him of the necessity of entering. The appearance of the newest addition to the mansion was no less startling than my own: red eyes peered at me from a green face and horns sat on top of the head, poking up in front of light brown hair. If I didn't know better, I would have thought him inhuman. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to Xavier's School for the Gifted," I greeted him, arm outstretched. "I'm Hank, the resident physician at the moment."

He smiled at me and shook my hand. "I'm Lorne. And I must say this isn't what I would have pictured you lot hiding down here. I'm oddly enough liking the whole metallic look."

I chuckled and waved him into the lab. "I just want to run a few tests on you to make sure you're in good health, figure out your powers, and set up a file for you. We're doing the equivalent as a mutant research center and all the data we can get would be helpful."

Scott placed a hand on my arm and I looked at him. "There's something you should know, Hank, about Lorne."

"What is it Scott?" I pursed my lips and frowned.

"Well – he's not exactly human."

I blinked at him, a bit flummoxed. "Well, if you say so, Scott. Though I still want to run some tests on him."

He grabbed the edge of my lab coat as I turned to walk into the room. "Hank, I'm serious."

"I understand." I nodded to Scott and went to face my patient, slightly off-balance in my initial assessment of Lorne. Though I had my doubts about Scott's words, I didn't discount them fully.

* * *

POV: Lorne

The Doc seemed nice enough, though he reminded me a bit of Wesley, if a bigger and bluer version. They both spoke carefully, as if savoring each word that left their mouths. I suppose it was an academia thing. Wes was born into a cultured and educated world; Hank entered it and took to it like a fish to water. He had even quoted Shakespeare during my examination, to my surprise.

"So it doesn't bother you that I'm not human?" I asked him as I was getting dressed again. He had politely turned his back and was fiddling with some machine.

He chuckled. "I admit, I was reluctant to believe it at first, but the results are what they are. I'm going to run the blood through a DNA analyzer but I can pronounce fairly certainly that you are not, nor ever were, human."

"I'm sure glad of that, or else I've been living a lie my whole life," I said. I laughed, remembering his amazement at certain parts of my anatomy. Aside from the extra toes and the weird arrangement of my genitalia, I think what cinched it for him was the fact that my heart was not in my chest. My grin got wider as I recalled his reaction upon finding out just _where_ it was located. I finished buttoning my shirt. "You can look now."

He turned around and extended his hand. "Lorne, it was a pleasure to have met you. I think you're going to like it here at Xavier's."

I took it. "I think I will too. It's going to be a welcome change, I think. I can walk around without having to put on a hat or something to hide my face. It wasn't so bad at Wolfram and Hart – there at least, people knew about demons and didn't look twice at me. But outside of there, I had to be careful of what restaurants and bars I went into. The idea of hiding out in the open amongst mutants is... odd."

Hank looked me in the eye. "Even though you're more open about it, hiding in plain sight is still hiding. I've learned that even that little starts to eat away from you. After the rest of my mutancy manifested – I wasn't always blue, you know," he added at my expression, "I became a recluse. I refused to talk to my former colleagues. But, I learned. _This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man._ Never forget who you really are, Lorne."

I studied the walking contradiction in front of me. He was as large as gorilla and his limbs were formed differently so that he actually looked like he was more suited to climbing trees than in a laboratory. Glasses perched delicately on his nose and during my examination, his clawed hands were gentle. "Thank you, doc," I told him, oddly touched. "Do you want to sing for me?" I asked him, feeling that I should offer him something for his advice. I had of course told him about my powers.

He looked at me and I could see the temptation in his eyes. It was fleeting though, and he shook his head firmly. "No," he answered. "And I think I would prefer it that if you did happen to read something off me that you keep it to yourself." He sat down on a lab stool and rested his chin on his fist. He looked like a mutant Thinker, though I don't think Rodin would have thanked me for the comparison. "Not that I'm not ungrateful for the offer," he told me, "but I believe that no man should know his own future. I want to live my life without having anything you tell me hang over my head."

I nodded. "I suppose I can respect that." In fact, I really did. Not many people would have walked away from someone who could tell them their future like Hank just did. Dr. Henry McCoy, despite outward appearances, was what most people strove for on the inside. He was a blue Ghandi: literate, compassionate, unselfish, and overcame temptation. I briefly wished that he could have been part of Angel Investigations at the time of the Jasmine incident. Things might have turned out differently, then.

As I returned upstairs, I realized what I had been missing in my life. Hank's words echoed in my mind: _To thine own self be true._ I hadn't been. I had let Angel manipulate me into killing a man, something that went against my very nature. Even before that, when we accepted the Senior Partners' offer of the LA branch of the law firm, we weren't being true. I had my reasons for saying yes, we all did, and perhaps mine were more simplistic than the others – I truly did want to meet and rub elbows with Hollywood's brightest stars – but we were still the heroes getting into bed with the enemy.

I wondered what Angel would have thought about my assessment of our actions of over a year ago.

_To thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man._

If I wanted to be true to myself, I had to first remember who I was. That was, I had a feeling, going to be the hardest part.

End Part 3


	4. Part 4

Title: Shades of Green  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: Angel the Series and X-men (movieverse)  
Continuity: Takes place a month after X2 and shortly after AtS series finale.  
Distribution: The Haven, TTH, FF. net  
Disclaimer: Lorne and all Angel the Series is property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. X-men is property of Marvel Comics, Bryon Singer, and FOX. I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this piece of fiction. No money is being made off of this story.

* * *

POV: Ororo Munroe 

I woke up to a hesitant knock. Rolling out of bed, I pulled on a robe over my nightgown, tying it tightly as I walked barefoot to the door. I wasn't surprised and this wasn't the first time I had been woken up by one of the younger students who suffered from nightmares. It had gotten more frequent though since the attack. I know the other adults had also become confidants to the students, dryer of tears and bedtime story tellers. Even gruff Logan had been found asleep in the front of the television, surrounded by students watching Saturday morning cartoons.

My nighttime visitor was Sarah, a ten-year-old who had manifested early. She had the ability to manipulate water and her powers had emerged at the local pool when her younger brother had nearly drowned last summer. She had saved her brother's life and her parents had enrolled her at Xavier's.

Sarah chewed nervously on her brown hair and stared up at me. "Miss Munroe," she whispered, "I had a bad dream. The soldiers had come back."

I smiled reassuringly at her and reached out my hand for her to take. "Everything's fine, Sarah. There are no soldiers. Let's get you some warm milk from the kitchen, hmm?"

We walked down the deserted hallway and descended the stairs to the main level. The kitchen was not normally open to students but the teachers were allowed to raid the fridge when they wished. The cook had just requested that we clean up after ourselves and to not eat anything clearly labeled as off-limits. I was surprised to find the kitchen already occupied. Scott and Lorne were sitting at the table, talking over sandwiches.

They both turned at our entrance. Sarah hid shyly behind me, her eyes large as she stared at the green stranger she had seen earlier today at lunch. Lorne smiled gently and leaned forward on the table. "Hey there, sweetheart. You look hungry. How about I make you something to eat?"

I smothered a laugh as Sarah pulled even further back behind me. Scott grinned at me and got up to go to the fridge. "I think she needs something else, Lorne. The cure for bad dreams, insomnia, and all that ails you." He flashed a smile at Sarah as he pulled out a carton of milk and set it on the counter. He then took a saucepan off the rack on the wall.

Lorne walked up and gently pushed Scott aside. "Hey, I was the one who made the offer. I should do the cooking. You go sit down." He then turned towards the stove, pointedly ignoring Scott as he poured milk into the pan and turned on the burner.

I sat down at the table and pulled Sarah into my lap. She leaned back against me and closed her eyes. My hand absentmindedly stroked her hair. "You're up late," I said to Scott.

He fiddled with the crusts of bread lying on his plate. "Lorne and I were swapping stories." He seemed to be looking at me but from long practice, I knew he was actually staring at a point above my head. Most people find it hard to look past the red shades which mask his face but I've known him for years. I let whatever he was hiding drop and instead focused on the child in my arms. Sarah wasn't sleeping; she was still too tense. I sighed and wondered how many other students were still having nightmares. The older ones were more reluctant to come to the teachers but I doubt that they managed to escape bad dreams and flashbacks.

Lorne walked back to the table, a mug of warmed milk in his hand. I gently nudged Sarah as he placed it in front of my seat. He grinned amiably at her. "Go on. I added something extra to it."

She ducked her head and smiled at the general direction of his legs. I chuckled as Sarah took a cautious sip of the drink. She looked up at surprise at the green demon. "It's good!"

He laughed. "A little cinnamon and vanilla. It's the same that I put into—" He stopped talking, a perplexed look on his face.

"Lorne?" I asked softly.

He shook his head. "Nothing. For a second there, I remembered taking care of a baby but that's crazy. I've never even held a baby in my life."

Scott placed a hand on Lorne's shoulder. I stared at the bewildered look on his green face and felt a stab of sympathy. Lorne had gone through just as much as we have recently – more, even. From what he had told us, his memories might have been as messed up as Logan's, with his constant dealings with magics and magic-users.

* * *

Lorne's POV: 

When Ororo walked in, little girl in tow, Scott and I had been trading stories of _that day_. It was a different day for each of us, but in our minds, we each considered it _that day_. It had been the day where our lives had changed. For me, it was when Angel put his plan to take out the Circle of the Black Thorn into motion and I was given the task of killing Lindsay after Sahvrin was dead. For Scott, it was when Jean ran off the Blackbird and held back the tidal wave.

We had faced challenges before and overcome them. I suppose that over time, we can overcome these as well. For now, however, we allowed ourselves to wallow in our grief, our loneliness, and our regret. Before _that day_, we had held onto whatever innocence we could in our hearts. After, that innocence was gone.

As I was heating up the milk for Sarah's late-night snack, a strong sense of déjà vu attacked me and I blinked hard. I automatically reached for the cinnamon and vanilla from the spice rack and even looked around for a baby bottle before catching myself. Watching Sarah drink her milk, I remembered a baby – a boy? – whom I had fed and taken care of. The memories were hazy and I struggled to complete the scene.

Ororo's voice and Scott's hand on my shoulder brought me back into the present and I smiled shakily. Sarah obliviously finished her mug of milk and set it on the table, the skin above her upper lip coated in white. I reached over and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "There you go. Feel better?" I asked her, ignoring the worried glances the other two were throwing at each other.

Sarah nodded and when I held out a hand, she slid off Ororo's lap and clambered into my own. Ah, the fickleness of children. "Did you have bad dreams?" I asked her quietly. Her head nodded against my chest. "Do you want to tell me about them?" She shook her head. I patted her back. "Well, that's fine too. Though if you change your mind, I'll be here to listen."

"Okay," her voice whispered softly against the cloth of my shirt.

I gently rocked her and sang a lullaby. Again, the déjà vu hit again but I pushed it back. I could figured everything out later, possibly tomorrow, after I had settled into the mansion and slept some more.

Ororo carefully disentangled the sleeping Sarah from me and picked her up in her arms. "Thank you," she whispered to me.

I smiled back. "You're welcome," I answered her, just as softly. Scott and I watched as she left the kitchen. A few hummed bars of the song I had sung Sarah to sleep with wafted back towards me. I wished my powers came with an on/off switch, especially when I was surrounded by a bunch of Champions who were apt to sing or hum or even whistle absentmindedly as they go about their day.

_She was dressed in a leather catsuit, cloth flapping from her arms, and she was flying through the air, her eyes as white as her hair. Beneath her, a large lake stretched itself on the landscape. She faltered as a shape became apparent underneath the surface of the water, a giant bird-shaped creature colored red-orange. "Jean?" she breathed before she started falling downwards._

Ororo's screams echoed in my ears as I took a deep breath. Scott was looking at me, his head slightly tilted. "What is it?" he asked.

I shook my head and stood up, using my hands to shakily support my weight. "It's nothing," I lied. Sometimes, I picked up very clear linear futures from people. This guy is going to win the lottery next week; this one will get run over by a car tomorrow. Other times, it's not so understandable. "Damn Powers," I muttered as I placed my plate and Sarah's mug into the dishwasher. The saucepan got placed into the sink and I turned on the faucet. "You ever ask yourself 'Why you?' Why somebody up there decided that we were the ones to be given special abilities and then put into situations to use them?" I scrubbed with more fervor than necessary and set the pan into the drying rack.

"It's hard," Scott answered, "being different. It doesn't matter if you're a mutant, or just the awkward kid in the corner of the classroom. You're always going to be different and no matter how much you try, you can't change yourself without losing who you are." He shrugged at me. "I tell my students to embrace their differences. They're unique and special because of what they can do. And much of the point is that if you're different, and especially if you have powers, then you have a duty to help others who might feel outcast too."

"And what about the rest of humanity?" I asked. "I worked at an evil law firm. I saw the worst that humans – all beings, actually – have to offer."

"All life is precious." Scott grabbed his plate and glass and joined me by the sink. He put his dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "If you start making distinctions over who deserves to live and who deserves to die, then you're no better than the people you're fighting against." He sighed and rubbed a hand against his face. "Though if you had asked me at the time if Stryker should die, I would have answered yes."

"In my previous line of work, we killed, though Lindsay was the first I killed personally. Angel, Wesley, Gunn – they were fighters and they went out to hunt demons and vampires." I laughed softly. "Helping the hopeless. You know, it's strange. We saved humans and protected them. Demons, however, they were evil...unless they weren't. There are certain species of demons that aren't any more evil than humans, but kneejerk reaction is 'slay first, ask questions later.'"

"If you see someone in trouble, you save them. That's what you do. Doesn't matter what they look like." Scott shook his head. "This is too deep for this late. I'm heading up to bed."

As he was leaving, I called out his name, intending to tell him what I had seen from Ororo's humming. "Scott—"

He turned. "Yeah?"

I sighed and looked down. "Sleep well."

"Yeah. You too." He waved and disappeared out of the room, leaving me leaning up against the counter alone with my thoughts. I had never before questioned what Angel Investigations had done. It was generally acknowledged that there were neutral demons and even good demons. Demon was just a term used to refer to any sentient being who wasn't human. Yet, when it came down to it, demons bad and humans good was how the world was broken up, despite Angel being a vampire and myself.

What did Angel make of me, the first time he met me? What did he make of Caritas with its mixed clientele and its non-violence wards? I remembered when Gunn's gang had taken my club hostage and Gunn had betrayed his reservations of working with a vampire. Demon bad. Human good.

Sarah, who was ten, was more accepting of me than most humans. Was it age or the fact she was surrounded by "specials?"

And what the hell was my role in this? I knew there was a good chance I'd dream of falling tonight, with Ororo screaming in the background. Still, I turned off the kitchen light and headed upstairs. The bed was soft and the sheets were clean; despite not waking until noon, I fell asleep quickly.

Instead of falling, I dreamt I was walking in the deserted hallways of Wolfram and Hart. I found myself in the White Room where the Senior Partners had communicated with us. Footsteps sounded behind me and I turned, expecting – what?

Certainly not this. Cordelia walked towards me and gently gave me a hug. "You look like hell," she told me. Her eyes were sad.

"Did the Powers send you?"

She nodded. "I asked to be the one. I wanted you to hear this from a friend."

I closed my eyes. "Angel. Did they...?" I let my voice trail off.

She shook her head. "Some. I can't tell you who came out of the battle though. The Powers wanted you to focus on your new life and leave your old one behind for now. You need to get settled, get comfortable at Xavier's."

"Cordy – Why mutants? Why not another group of demon hunters?"

"That's already being taken care of in spades. For now, at least, there are enough Champions on that front. They want you to focus on another battle. These people are like you, right now: broken. You have to help fix each other before you can move on."

"Move on? To where?"

She smiled, a hint of the old Cordy coming through. "You'll see. And despite your vision earlier, it's going to be all right in the end." She touched my forehead. "I'm going to let you remember, now. The spell was already breaking down but I'm going to speed it up. This is something you should know and it was never fair for Angel to take it away in the first place."

Connor. The name came back to me and my eyes snapped open. "That son of a bitch!" I growled.

End Part 4


	5. Part 5

Title: Shades of Green  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: Angel the Series and X-men (movieverse)  
Continuity: Takes place a month after X2 and shortly after AtS series finale.  
Distribution: The Haven, TTH, FF. net  
Disclaimer: Lorne and all Angel the Series is property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. X-men is property of Marvel Comics, Bryon Singer, and FOX. I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this piece of fiction. No money is being made off of this story.  
Note: Sorry for the delay in updating. This summer has been more hectic than I originally had planned. To the reviewer who noted that there was a lot of talking going on, that is intended. This is more of a character piece than an action story. There will be some action (eventually) but mainly, it's an exploration of Lorne and the inhabitants of Xavier after everything that happened to them in canon. Mainly, I wanted to give Lorne some resolution.

* * *

**Kurt's POV**

Breakfast is usually a quiet affair, with most everybody – students and teachers alike – struggling to wake up. Cyclops usually has to inhale two cups of coffee before he's able to hold a decent conversation. Professor Xavier prefers tea, black. The Wolverine piles his plate with bacon and sausage; sometimes, if Rogue or Storm makes a comment, he might add some fruit as well to the mix. Me? I am one of those most despised types: the morning person. I learned early on not to take the grunts that they gave in response to my morning greetings personally.

I wasn't too surprised when Lorne, the newest addition, proved to be as taciturn as the rest of the table when he joined us for breakfast. However, when I ran into him again later in the day, just after lunch-time, and he was still deep in contemplation, I paused in my wanderings and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at me, red eyes blinking in confusion. "Kurt, right?" he asked me.

I nodded. "_Ja_. And you are Lorne, the demon who reads minds."

He smiled. It was small and I didn't see any teeth, but it was still a smile. "Not quite mind-reading, though I suppose it's close enough." He shrugged.

I studied him. It was mostly curiosity but a part of me stared at Lorne with skepticism and a hint of resentment that I quickly pushed aside. Having grown up being thought to be a demon by those around me, the sight of a real demon confused me. "How can you be a demon?" I asked. "I have always been taught demons to be evil, the workers of the Devil." My own looks followed traditional concepts of the demonic more than Lorne's amiable green face and light purple suit.

"Demons are just a label for non-humans." He frowned and the skin between his eyebrows wrinkled. "It's true that a fair number of what we call 'demons' are not good, but there are also some that are neutral. We don't tend to call those with good intentions 'demons,' though the term could still be used."

"So what do you call the good demons?" I asked, curious.

"Balance," he said simply.

I said nothing in immediate response. He seemed content enough to stand there and let me think. I had been raised religious; it was hard not to be growing up in a monastery. I had never questioned my faith despite hostile villagers, skeptical audiences, and my unwitting servitude to Stryker. My appearance and my teleportation skills had always marked me as different, even at birth. It was no wonder that my mother had abandoned me if she had carried the same prejudices as the superstitious inhabitants of rural Eastern Europe.

Yet, I was special – that is what I had been taught by the kind monks, and later by the circus folk who took me in. The idea that my specialness was not unique and that there were thousands of mutants across the globe was intriguing and overwhelming. What kind of God would grant us these powers amongst regular human beings who were at best indifferent to us? At worst... well, I had seen the worst in Stryker and his master plan to commit genocide.

"If there is a good and a bad," I said finally, "then there must be beings greater than us controlling each side. Right?"

"Not controlling. There's the whole free will thing, after all." Lorne's mouth twisted and he grimaced. "Though free will is relative. Most people go through life without ever having being touched by the Powers that Be, lucky for them."

"The Powers that Be?" I was confused. Yet even I could hear the capitalized letters. "Do you mean God?"

He shrugged. "God, Allah, Jehovah, the PTB. Whatever you want to call them. But yeah, they're there and they're a pain in my backside." He glared up at the ceiling. "I am so sick of being a damn pawn in their games." Glancing over at me, he snorted in frustrated amusement. "Do you know how hard it is to find out that things you thought were true were actually false and that your memories aren't your own? Hell, that what you thought were your own decisions were actually taken away from you and the past few years of your life were a finely orchestrated dance between the Powers and a brooding vampire with a soul?"

I watched in horrified amazement as Lorne seemed to deflate. He slumped against the wall and started shaking. I reached out and held onto his shoulders so he wouldn't pitch forward. "No, I do not know," I answered softly. "It is not easy, to have God reach out and choose you. All of His Chosen had to pass obstacle after obstacle. Look how he treated his only Son – why should he show us any leniency?"

Lorne leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I didn't ask for this," he whispered. "I just wanted music and laughter – a life that wasn't Pylea. Damn you, Angel." His green hands gripped his temple and despite my grip, he sunk down onto the floor. "We were fighting the good fight, remember? How could you do this to us?"

His eyes were unfocused and I realized that he wasn't talking to me but to this Angel, who had inflicted Lorne with some horrible wrong. There was nothing I could do except bow my head and pray for guidance, my hand on the demon's head. I'm sure that someone was laughing at the irony, whatever that someone's name was.

* * *

**Lorne's POV**

The last thing I wanted was to have a breakdown in the middle of a hallway. Kurt stayed with me until I had regained enough control to walk without falling on my face, though I was not sure just how long that control would last. After my visitation from Cordelia last night and her giving back my memories, I seemed to be walking in a heavy fog, the kind where you couldn't see five inches in front of your face. Any moment and I could trip on a loose cobblestone or walk into a lamppost. I knew his intentions were innocent enough but I did not thank Kurt for wanting to start a theological discussion in my current state.

I was not oblivious to the fact that my conversation with Kurt could have been a continuation with the one I had with Scott late last night. It seemed that my subconscious (_or someone else_, a part of my mind whispered) wanted me to dwell on the issues that bogged me down. If I could find someone I could trust, I might have even gone to a psychologist, though it would have to be a fairly open-minded one.

"Well, Doc, one of my friends who also happened to be my boss messed around with my head and rewrote an entire year of my memories and I only just found out about it from another friend, who had died recently," I said to the air. "In addition to that, I got plunked right into the laps of a group of vigilante mutants that have more than enough of their own issues to deal with without adding an empathic demon from another dimension to the mix." I snorted. Yeah, that would go over well.

Lacking anything better to do with my time, I explored the mansion. The kiddies were in classes and I accidentally interrupted more than one lecture poking around the building. I finally wandered outside and sat down on a bench in some formal gardens. I breathed in the smell of roses, a little heavier than I would have preferred – I liked lilac myself – but it added to the surrounding calm.

Well, the first step would be to break down everything. Angel. Connor. Jasmine. Wolfram and Hart. Fred. Illyria. Lindsay. I took a deep shuddering breath. When did my life get so complicated? "I should have never left Caritas," I said to a passing butterfly. "Karaoke and mixed drinks were so much easier to deal with." The tiger swallowtail, oblivious to my plight, continued flapping its wings and eventually flew behind a wall and out of my sight.

Angel was too big to deal with first, as was Connor. I turned to Jasmine and frowned. She had deceived everybody and it was only Fred's quick thinking that made us see the truth. Jasmine had blinded us all – just like Wolfram and Hart's offer had blinded us? We didn't see the ugliness until it was too late. False promises. Gilded offers.

Which led to the evil law firm. God, we were so easily manipulated. So naïve. Why did we ever think we could change everything from the inside? The corruption had been so deeply rooted that instead, we were the ones who had changed. We made compromises with the dark side. Thought that if we only got our feet wet in the river, we would not fall in.

Why would Angel accept Lilah's offer in the first place? Control of the LA branch in exchange for what? I remembered Connor's new family coming to see us for help, though I had no clue then that Connor was Connor. They seemed to care about him and he seemed content; innocent. I sighed. "My God, Angel. You traded us for your son's happiness. Who would have thought that a well-adjusted teenage boy with no idea of who he really is would be the price for Angel's soul?"

Resentment still bubbled deep in my stomach but I couldn't hate him too much for his choice. What I could hate him for was his deciding without our input. Memories wiped and rewritten and we walked into Wolfram and Hart minus one miracle child. "You had no right, Angel. You might have sired him but I was the one who sang him to sleep. I changed his diapers. I fed him and bathed him and I loved him too, damn you." Maybe somewhere, Angel's spirit could hear me. "You had no right!" I shouted. "They were my memories, for good or for bad, and hell if they were yours to just take away!"

A throat cleared and I froze, embarrassed to have been caught unguarded twice today. A teenage boy, a little younger than Connor, sat down on the bench next to me. "Professor Xavier erased some of my family's memories," he said conversationally. "They had found out I was a mutant and reacted badly. My brother called the police and my best friend almost burned my house down. I wasn't happy when I found out what he did but... it was for the best, I guess. I mean, how could my parents have lived with themselves knowing that their son was a freak who brought dangerous people into their home, and then knowing that their other son would willingly turn me over to the government?" He stared at his hands and didn't look at me.

"What do you think your parents would say if they found out that their minds had been messed with? That a part of their life isn't what they remembered?"

He shrugged. "I think it would be better if they never found out." He looked at me, his eyes old in his young face. "Sometimes, I wish that the Professor would wipe my memories of that day. It's hard to have a conversation with them over the phone, or to see them, without remembering how they acted and wondering just how much of it was the shock? If I told them the truth about my mutation, how much of their reaction before would I see again?" His hand twitched and a ball made of ice formed in his palm. He held it up and looked at it. "Seems kind of silly, doesn't it? I mean, other kids have useful powers. I can make sure that my drinks stay cold all day in the summer."

"Sounds pretty cool to me."

He snorted at my unintentional pun. "Right." He dropped the iceball and it shattered on the paved path. "Bobby Drake," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

I took it. "Lorne."

"So what about you?" he asked. "Who messed with your memories and why?"

"You sure you want to know? It's a pretty long story."

He grinned. "I have the period free so I don't have anywhere I have to go. Besides, it sounded like it would be interesting, from what I heard you yelling at the sky."

I laughed. "Well, it all started about three years ago – or was it four? Well, whenever it was, it seemed like a lifetime. There was this vampire who walked into my bar..." So I sat in a rose garden in New England talking to a teenager who could make ice about some vampires, a seer, and a child who should never have been born.

What were the chances that I'd end up in a place full of people who understood what I was going through? Perhaps we could heal together, and each other. If we were being shoved around by the Powers, at least they seemed to know what they were doing at the moment. I wondered what the final plan was for all of us – the Power's Champions.

--End Part 5--


	6. Part 6

Title: Shades of Green  
Author: Gaeriel Mallory  
Rating: K+  
Fandoms: Angel the Series and X-men (movieverse)  
Disclaimer: Lorne and all Angel the Series is property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. X-men is property of Marvel Comics, Bryon Singer, and FOX. I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this piece of fiction. No money is being made off of this story.

* * *

**Rogue's POV**

Ever since meeting Bobby's family, I had been thinking a lot about my own. If I had been more reckless, or braver, I might have even contacted them. I never knew if the Professor ever had, though I suspect he must have if he allowed me to stay at the school. He couldn't risk being found harboring a runaway from Mississippi, and a teenage girl at that. I'm not that naïve about the world. People would assume the worst about the rich old man who was still unmarried after all these years.

Still, I was glad for his charity – I had no illusions about that; I paid no tuition and he even supplied the money for my clothes and school supplies – because where else in the world could I have found a place that suited me as well as Xavier's? Don't get me wrong; my parents aren't horrible. They were typical middle-class Americans, though a bit more WASPy (that's White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, not the Women Airforce Service Pilots who I learned about in history class) than most. I probably could have stayed at home after I manifested but I freaked out when I saw Cody lying there on my bed unconscious but screaming in my head. My first instinct was to run and I didn't have time to look back until after I woke up in the medical lab in the basement.

And everything did work out all right in the end. I even had a semi-normal teenage life with a boyfriend and best friends, if you ignore the fact that we are all a bit less normal than average. And most days, I don't even hear Magneto's voice in my head, though Logan's a bit more prevalent. John, too, but I don't like to think about him. Cody's gone now so I figured they will all fade away with time. I hope. It's getting awfully crowded inside my head.

I left history class with Miss Munroe and almost ran into Bobby. "Hi!" I said, grinning. "What's up?"

He smiled at me and took my books from me. That was sweet of him. "Nothing. I just thought I'd meet my girlfriend after her last class." He put his arm around my waist and steered me down the hall. "I had a pretty interesting conversation today with Lorne."

I looked at him in puzzlement, trying to place the name. "Lorne?"

"He's the new guy, the one with the green skin. I ran into him earlier in the gardens and we got to talking." Bobby frowned. "Man, I thought we had it bad. What we faced is barely a blip on the radar compared to him."

I stopped walking and had to force myself to not hyperventilate. "How can you say that?" I asked. "The school was invaded by men with guns. We had to run or be kidnapped. Dr. Grey, she—" I stopped, unable to say the words. Around us, other kids had stopped and stared, mouths open in shock and I realized that I had started shouting. I glared at them and grabbed Bobby's arm, dragging him down the hall and into an empty room. The terror of that horrible night crept back on me, and the feeling of being chased, the knowledge that Xavier's—home—was no longer safe.

He sat down at one of the desks and placed my books down in front of him. "I didn't mean that, Rogue," he said softly. "I wasn't trying to make what we had gone through less important." He looked at me. "We don't know what life is really like," he said softly. "Lorne, he and his people saved the world and they paid the price, just like we did. And it was a much more than just one person dying, Rogue." Bobby shook his head and I watched him try and gather his thoughts into words. "What we do, what the X-men do, it's kiddie stuff. We couldn't even begin to handle what he had."

I gripped the wood of the teacher's desk at the front of the room, trying to think of what could possibly be bigger than Magneto, than Stryker. "The X-men save lives out there, mutant and non-mutant. You're saying that that's _kiddie stuff_? What could be more important than making sure that the world is safe for mutants to walk down the street?"

"Making sure that there will be a world tomorrow," was his quiet response. He got up and looked at me. "Look, Rogue, I don't think this is anything I can make you see. If you had heard what Lorne had told me, you wouldn't even be arguing with me right now."

I stared speechlessly as my boyfriend walked out of the room. I grabbed my books and headed for the garage. I couldn't talk to Bobby, which left one other person in the school who might help me make sense of my confusion. Logan looked up at me as I stumbled through the door. He slowly straightened, wiping his hands on a grease-covered rag. I absently noted that he was fiddling with the engine of one of the cars.

"What's the matter, Marie?" he asked me. He tossed the rag aside and leaned against the car, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Bobby…" I trailed off, not sure how to continue. "Do you think that what the X-men do is worthwhile?" I blurted out, seeing him start to frown at my mention of Bobby's name.

His frown deepened. "Why in the world would you ask something like that?" he asked.

"Bobby was talking to that new guy, Lorne, I think, and he told me that the X-men deal with 'kiddie stuff' compared to whatever it is that Lorne did."

"And just what did the Jolly Green Giant do?"

"Bobby – I think they saved the world, or at least, they thought they were saving the world." I shook my head. "But, that's crazy. How can just one group do something that can affect the entire earth? The X-men, they…" I trailed off, unsure of where my thoughts were going.

Logan sighed and uncrossed his arms. "Marie," he said softly, "what we do is important. It's very important, in fact, but that doesn't make it _the_ most important thing."

"But—" I started but he cut me off with a shake of his head.

"Listen, I know what you're feeling. You're young and you just lost someone in the fight." I bit my lip when I noticed how his jaw clenched at that. "Jean knew what she was doing. She made her choice over what fight she would take part in. I'm not going to say to you that making sure that mutants and humans can live together in peace ain't a good cause, because I'd be lying. But I think that if you had asked her to choose between giving mutants a good life and giving all humanity a good life, she wouldn't even hesitate before picking the last one. You and everyone else in this damn school identify yourselves as a mutant first. You sometimes forget that you're also human."

I hesitated, unsure if Logan would even know the answer. "Is it true that Lorne's group saved the world?" And what could they possibly save the world from? Where they a group that went after terrorists with nuclear bombs? Because that was the only thing I could think of that could kill everyone on earth, yet I somehow didn't think that was what Bobby had meant.

Logan shook his head. "Look kid, this isn't a conversation you need to have with me. If you want answers, you go talk to Lorne yourself."

* * *

**Lorne's POV**

Libraries are great places. They're quiet, allowing one to get quality thinking time in, and at the same time full of books to distract one from the worst of the bad thoughts. I was sitting in an entirely too-comfortable chair flipping through a vintage copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ when Logan found me. I had first read the book when I had arrived in this world, but had never picked it up since. I suppose it reminded me a little of my own plight, only instead of falling through the rabbit hole and wanting to get home like Alice, I fell out of the rabbit hole and never looked back.

He dropped down into the chair next to mine with a heavy thump. I winced as I heard the chair creak in protest of his heavy frame. He didn't say anything for a while, just staring off into space, his arms folded loosely over his chest. "So, you saved the world, huh?" he finally remarked nonchalantly.

I dropped the book in surprise. I cringed when it hit the floor and bent down to pick it up, carefully inspecting it for damage while I put my thoughts in order. "I suppose you could say that," I said softly. "Though sometimes, you have to ask yourself if it's a world worth saving." I looked him square in the eye. "I've seen some of the very worst that humanity has had to offer. I've also known some damn good individuals who I thought made up for all the bads. It's a shame when you learn differently." Standing up, I clutched the book in my hands. "If you'll excuse me, I really don't feel like having yet another heart-to-heart today."

Before I reached the door, however, Logan's voice stopped me. "Fine by me. I don't do touchy-feely anyway."

My lips twitched at that. "Yeah. I pictured you more as the 'hit first' type."

He actually grunted, which made me snort in amusement. "I heard that you had a talk with Drake," he said, leaning forward in his seat. "Seems that he in turn talked to Marie who is rather upset now. Don't suppose you'll let me in on whatever it was that you and he talked about?"

"Marie – she one of the students?" I asked, curious.

"That right."

"What is she to you, exactly? I mean, you seem awfully concerned about a girl who has got to be half your age, and I assume unrelated to you."

I barely saw him move. The next thing I knew, I was pinned against a table with three very sharp blades pressing into my cheek. "You watch what you're implying there, Greenie," he snarled at me.

I held up my hands in surrender. "No implications at all, there, cupcake. Just an observation."

He released me with a little snarl, and I straightened my clothing. "Marie's a friend. We saved each other's hides back in the day." The blades retreated back into the back of his hand with a _snickt_.

I gulped. I picked up the book again – poor _Alice_, so mistreated – which I had dropped when Logan had attacked me. "I'm sorry," I told him. "I do understand loyalty to friends."

He eyed me skeptically. "Just what did happen, anyway?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "I noticed that none of your _friends_ are here right now."

I dropped my eyes. "I parted company with them. We had some different ideas of what actions justified the ends, is all." I looked at him and steeled myself. "In the end, I was asked to do something I didn't want to do. I did it, like a good little soldier, but I couldn't stay to see how everything turned out." I set _Alice_ down on the table and sighed. I turned my back to Logan and rested my palms against the wood grain.

His hand on my shoulder surprised me and I tensed up. "What did you do?" he asked, more softly and gently than I could have thought possible of him.

I was silent for a long moment. I closed my eyes and remembered the weight of the gun in my hand, the sound of the shot, the recoil. "I killed a man." Lindsay's look of utter disbelief as he fell to the ground. "He was helping us, but he had betrayed us badly before and we couldn't take the chance that he would again." The smell of blood.

Angel had asked so much of us all in the end. It had been too much.

"We had to save the world, after all, right?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it at all. It was either laugh or cry and I've already reached my breakdown quota for the day. "I never even met up afterwards, to see if they had finished their own tasks. I just left." Lindsay's dead eyes staring blankly up at me. "I watched the news reports later. LA went crazy that night. I never did find out what went down in the end, who lived – if any of them even made it out." I shook my head. "I'm afraid to find out."

Logan squeezed my shoulder lightly and his hand dropped away. He stayed silent though, which was in many ways worse than anything he could have said. It left me with nothing to distract me from my memories.

--End Part 6--


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